


What Is Necessary

by scatterglory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Pack Feels, Possible AU, Sheriff Stilinski is a BAMF, Stiles Is Totally Worth It, Stupid Hunters Are Stupid, Teamwork FTW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatterglory/pseuds/scatterglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets kidnapped by rogue hunters.  This is not okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Necessary

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Teen Wolf belongs to MTV etc. I make no profit from this loving endeavour. If I did, I'd bribe the writers to make Sterek canon, so. :)
> 
>  **AN:** First foray into new fandom. Under 1000 words, no porn, no beta! D: *runs away to hide*
> 
> Also, I haven’t finished Season 2 yet, so this is probably a massive AU. Sigh. But at least Stiles can be whatever age you want. :)

The note is exactly two words, without a finger or ear or any kind of token.

It’s been a long time since Derek’s watched a movie all the way through, but he remembers tokens.

Kidnappers always include them.

* * *

The black camaro blasts down the highway. He hasn’t seen a speed limit sign for miles, and at first he expects the cop car behind him to flash its lights, pulling him over and citing him and forcing him to wind up on Chris Argent’s radar yet again. 

He looks over in surprise when the cop car switches lanes, pulls up beside him, and then leaves him behind.

Sheriff Stilinski didn’t even glance over once.

He must have received a token.

Derek steps on the gas.

* * *

“What the _fuck,_ Hale?”

Derek grunts as the Sheriff slams him back against the camaro, fists twisted in leather, breath hot in the night. The police cruiser is angled into oncoming traffic (there isn’t any) and the front left corner of the camaro is crushed. Derek doesn’t know why he rammed the cruiser in the first place, except really he does.

“Front. Pocket.”

The Sheriff--Stiles’ _father, pack_ , goddammit--doesn’t break eye contact as he reaches into Derek’s pocket and pulls out the folded piece of paper.

“If I find out you’re involved in this...”

Derek doesn’t even try to bite back a snarl as Stiles’ scent wafts through the air. Maybe the kidnappers sent a token, after all. “We’re both involved.”

The Sheriff glares at him, reads the note, and throws it to the ground. Derek barely keeps himself from throwing Stiles’ father across the camaro’s hood as he watches the paper settle in the dirt.

“‘Come alone’?” The Sheriff sneers.

Derek snarls, baring his still-human teeth. “What did _yours_ say?”

The Sheriff blanches, before his eyes grow cold. “An address,” he spits out. “And a picture.”

Derek stiffens, blood running cold through his veins. “Of?”

“His mother. From his wallet.”

Relief breaks over Derek like a wave, making him go almost limp under the Sheriff’s hands. Stilinski starts with surprise, before tightening his grip on Derek’s jacket.

“You really do care about him.”

“I’ll kill them all.”

It’s a risk, confessing premeditated murder to an officer of the law, but something changes in the Sheriff’s eyes. He releases Derek, and motions to his cruiser.

They’re on the road again before Derek’s even shut the passenger door.

* * *

“Why him?”

They’ve been driving for ten, maybe fifteen minutes when the Sheriff speaks. Derek’s claws dig even deeper into his thighs, but at least his eyes and teeth are unchanged.

“To get to you. And me.”

“Who are they?” A muscle jumps in the Sheriff’s jaw, and Derek can feel blood running down his leg under his jeans.

It’s like everything’s been leading to this. The images flash across his vision--pale skin stretched out naked and pliant under him, the rage on the Sheriff’s face and the horror on Stiles’, the threat of the gun tucked into a belt.

“They’re called ‘hunters’,” he spits out as his eyes flash red.

* * *

“How many?”

The Sheriff’s voice is soft and low as they crouch behind a tree. Derek’s nostrils flare as he scents the air again.

“Seven. He’s in the basement.”

The Sheriff wraps his hand around his gun to muffle the sound of cocking it, and meets Derek’s glowing eyes without flinching. “Let’s teach these vigilante bastards to fear the law.”

Derek feels his lips curl into something like a smile, and almost pities the rogue hunters who dared to challenge an alpha and a father. He’s about to rush the cabin when the Sheriff grabs his arm.

“When he’s safe, we’re going to have words about this whole werewolf thing. And also you fucking my son.”

Derek’s grin widens even as his fangs sharpen, and then there’s noise and blood and gunshots and _wolf_.

* * *

“D-Derek?”

Stiles’ voice is weak and shaky in the dark, but it doesn’t matter because he’s wrapped in Derek’s arms by the time the Sheriff flips on the light. Derek presses his nose into Stiles’ neck, smelling terror and despair, but not blood. He whines softly as Stiles curls his fingers around Derek’s arms, burying his face in Derek’s chest and shaking with something Derek can’t think about.

“You came,” Stiles chokes out.

“Always.” It’s a growl and a promise, and Derek hears the Sheriff clear his throat.

Stiles tries raise his head, and Derek has to fight the wolf to let him. “Dad?”

The Sheriff must move into Stiles’ line of vision, because Derek feels his entire body stiffen.

“Dad, I’m okay, it’s not his fault--”

“I know.”

Stiles is whip-cord tight in Derek’s arms, but he’s not letting go. Not even when he hears the Sheriff walk over to them, feels him kneel down, expects the last bullet in the Sheriff’s gun to be spent in a futile attempt to rescue his son from the embrace of a monster.

“It’s not what it looks like--” Stiles tries again, and it didn’t work before when Derek had to flee through the window or risk killing Stiles’ father in front of him, so why would it work now--

“Yes, it is.”

The Sheriff’s voice is firm, and Derek pulls Stiles even closer because Stiles is _his_ and he’ll die before he lets go--

Then strange arms, strong and sure and smelling of _pack_ , are pulling both him and Stiles close, and Stiles smells like tears and joy and exhaustion as the Sheriff’s breath whispers over Derek’s hair.

“Come on, boys, let’s go home.”

 

_Fin_


End file.
